Into the Cataclysm
by CherryWine
Summary: Just the story of my World of Warcraft character at the start of Cataclysm. Join Ros'arin as she and the Earthen Ring attempt to save Azeroth. Rated T for violence.


"Please! Wait just a second!"

The female troll ran down the dock towards a ship preparing for departure, her short white hair blowing past her in the ocean breeze. Her breath ran short as she finally reached the boat. A tall figure wearing simple, brown shrouds met her. She took a few breaths and smiled up at him.

"Thrall." She said, glad to have caught up to him, his deep chuckle greeting her.

"Ros'arin," he responded, "I'm glad you heard of my departure. Are you here to see me off then?"

"More than that," Ros'arin replied, "I want to go with you."

Thrall's smile fell, his face growing more serious.

"Ros'arin," he said, serious, "you do understand what it is we are doing? We won't be back for a long time. Azeroth's fate hangs on our abilities."

"I understand," she replied, "I've grown so much since I was taken from my home a year ago. I have studied the path of the Shaman well. I want to help to heal this planet, just as I have learned to heal my friends."

"Wisely spoken," the former Warchief smiled as he placed his hand on her shoulder, "I would be proud to have you join us. The Earthen Ring could use your abilities. I trust you have everything you need with you?"

"Oh yes," Ros'arin replied, "I grabbed everything when I heard of your departure."

"Then get on this ship before it leaves!" Thrall said, patting her on the back, pushing her towards the ship.

"Yes sir!" She replied happily, saluting her warchief as she made her way onto the ship. She was met by several approving looks from her fellow Shaman brethren. Alliance and Horde alike were traveling to the middle of the Maelstrom together. Ros's spirits were high. Hope for peace was still here. Despite the increased tensions since the Lich King's destruction, here were members of both factions, working together to save Azeroth.

Suddenly, Ros'arin's eyes met those of an unhappy look. A female orc, her brown skin giving away her origins, stood arms crossed glaring down at the troll. Ros'arin gave a nervous smile to the Orc, immediately realizing who she must be.

"Aggralan I presume," Ros'arin said, extending a two-fingered hand, "I've heard a great deal about you. Your shamanistic abilities are legendary."

The Orcess glared at Ros'arin's hand and back at her, not accepting the shake. She analyzed the Troll, looking her up and down.

"I have heard a lot about you as well Troll," she said finally, "your abilities are not exactly dust in the wind. I hear you were there when the Lich King fell."

"Well, yes" Ros'arin responded, blushing, "but a lot of people were…"

"And," Aggra interrupted, "you helped reclaim your people's home on the Echo Isles."

"A lot of people helped," Ros'arin insisted, "I was only one of the many."

"Well Ros'arin, Kingslayer," Aggra scoffed unimpressedly, "Here there will be no glory. No battles, no great victories. This is more than fighting a war. This is the healing of your world. It will take more power than you have ever used before."

Ros wasn't sure how to feel. She had greatly been looking forward to meeting this Aggra. Even now she could sense how the Orc's presence affected the elements around her. She wanted more than anything to get along, to even be friends. She was going to be a tough one though.

"I understand," Ros'arin simply said.

"Then you will understand the unimportance of your gear," Aggra responded as she reached in a sack, pulling out a cloth garb, she tossed it to Ros'arin, "you will not need your battle armor or weapons. Just your totems and this: a Shaman's clothing."

Ros'arin held up the piece. It was simple cloth with a few adornments. Much lighter than her own trusty mail armor. Her face showed concern as she looked back to Aggra from the garment.

"We are not fighting," Aggra said simply, "we have no need for heavy armor."

That was all the explanation the Orc gave. She turned and walked below deck, possibly to get ready for them to ship off. A small green creature ran past her, yelling to the crew to begin to cast off. The Goblin rushed to each station, making sure everything was in working order. He then gave the order to depart. The sails unfurled from their positions and the ship lurched forward, pushing through the sea.

"Ros'arin!" Ros heard the voice coming from the shore. She turned and ran to the edge of the boat, her heart bursting with a bittersweet happiness.

"Pawnche!" Ros yelled from the ship, waving to her childhood friend. She didn't have the time to tell him where she was going.

"I'm off to help Azeroth!" she yelled back to him.

"Ya betta be careful!" Pawnche yelled back, "I betta be seein' ya again soon!"

Tears stung her eyes as she waved madly at her friend that soon became a speck on the horizon. The last time she had seen him was a few weeks ago. He was headed off to some place called "Hyjal." They were both going to help save Azeroth in their own ways. She prayed that she would see him again safe and sound.

She turned back to the front of the ship, the crewmen working around her. For now, she was off to the Maelstrom, to the heart of the split. She looked down at the cloth garb in her hands.

"Well," she said to herself, "I guess I'd better change."

Ros'arin felt absolutely naked. The thin cloth draped over her did little but cover her as she walked around the ship. She was so used to her well-fitted mail armor that this loose, light clothing felt like almost nothing. Aggra caught her looking awkward and let out a loud chuckle.

"What's the matter Troll?" she asked, "feeling out of place without your battle armor?"

"Yeah actually," Ros'arin responded honestly, "I am a bit."

Ros'arin grinned at the Orc, playing her situation off. It had been a few days into the voyage and Ros'arin still couldn't get used to only wearing the Shaman garb and her bag of totems. Aggra had gotten used to the small Troll and enjoyed giving her hell about her insecurities. Although friendship seemed leagues away, Ros'arin could feel more of a connection with the Orc from Nagrand.

"How much farther out do you think?" Ros'arin asked the Aggra as she leaned against the side of the ship, gazing out onto the ocean.

"We should be reaching the Maelstrom in a day or so," she replied, "there are a couple of islands right next to it that we might stop by first. We can get supplies and information from there. I do believe the home of the Goblins is on one of them."

The thought intrigued Ros'arin. She glanced over at one of the Goblins. She had always seen them around, everywhere. Their hands were in almost everything. However, she had never taken the time to think about where they came from or where their home was. She wondered if the few Goblins on this ship were excited about being so close to home. At that same moment, the Goblin she had been looking at stuck a finger in his ears, swirling it around out of boredom. Perhaps not.

As the ship moved on, the skies began to darken. Thick clouds filled the air. The sea grew choppier and a rumbling could be heard in the distance.

"We are getting closer," Aggra said as she eyed the horizon, "we should be there by sunrise tomorrow."

The night was the furthest from calm it could be. Waves rocked the boat and made it difficult for Ros to find sleep below the deck. It was hard to sleep when every few moments the ship would tip, causing her to roll about five feet, smacking into the side of the ship. After an hour or two of strong weather, the seas seemed to calm a bit, an occasional thundering being heard. Unsure of how, Ros'arin fell asleep.

She wasn't sure how long she had been asleep when it happened. She heard a terrible booming noise followed by a strange, splintering sound. Ros shot up, it seemed as though everyone who had been sleeping were already up and gone. Wanting to discover the reason for the noise, Ros rushed to the upper deck. Goblins were scattering everywhere, desperate looks adorned their faces. From the bow, Ros heard Thrall yell orders to the others surrounding them.

Light peaked up over the horizon, filling the sky with a yellow-ish pink light. Not too far away, Ros spotted the reason for the distress, another ship sat adjacent to theirs, bearing a bright blue and gold flag with a lion's head on it. Alliance. Confused, Ros ran up to Thrall, who's face showed an intense anger.

"What is going on? Why are the Alliance attacking us?" Ros'arin asked the former Warchief.

"I know not," Thrall replied, "I'm guessing it has something to do with me."

A shot rang out, whizzing right by Ros's ear.

"For now I suggest you do what you can to help," Thrall said as he prepared to fight, calling down bolts of lightning onto the Alliance ship.

Ros nodded to Thrall and with one swift motion, four totems appeared, surrounding her. She began to cast healing spells onto those who had already been fighting. She felt an old excitement grow in her. One which she tried to suppress. She hadn't done anything like this in a long time, but she really had hoped she wouldn't have to. That's why she joined this excursion, she wanted to work to help heal Azeroth, not fight Alliance. She felt angry, why were the Alliance doing this? It was an outright act against the treaty. Sure, it had been a bit shaky since the fall of the Lich King, but there hadn't been anything that threw the treaty out of the window entirely. This, however, definitely was.

Suddenly, a cannon ball shot past Ros and slammed right into an orc, throwing him off the ship and into the ocean. He was out of her range before she could even blink. Angry and frustrated she turned and continued to heal, trying her best against the oncoming bullets, arrows and cannons.

The Alliance ship grew closer and several of the humans, dwarves, draenei and night elves swung over to their ship. Most of the warriors went for the other fighters, however, a night elf druid eyed Ros'arin, understanding her purpose and headed straight for her, shifting his form to become a dark nightsaber. As he lept at her, she shot a lightning bolt at him. It struck him but he seemed mostly unphased. The large cat landed on her, knocking her to the ground and the air from her lungs. She struggled with it, keeping his fangs away from her throat. The claws scratched at her body, the light cloth she had changed into tearing away as if it were nothing. She managed to place her feet against the Nightsaber's chest, pushing with all her might, flipping the large cat away from her. She struggled to get up, bleeding slightly from her scratches. Throwing her hand out, a blue light shimmered over it, and then shimmered over the Druid. He turned a slight blue-ish hue, his muscles freezing. He continued to run back to her, however he was much slower. Looking to others for help and seeing that it wasn't going to happen, Ros shot lightning bolt after lightning bolt at the Druid, running as she did so. Meanwhile all around her, her shipmates were dying. Trying her best to heal and run, she managed to kite the druid enough to save some of the others from dying.

Looking back over her shoulder, she was terrified to see that the Druid was recovering from her frost spell. She was about to cast it again, but the Druid shifted, now a huge bear stood close, he lifted one big paw and brought it down on her head. Stars erupted around her eyes and she hit the ground, blood streamed from the spot she was hit down her face, staining her white hair. The bear hit her again and she slid across the deck, her back hitting the side of the ship. She wasn't sure what happened next as her world went black.

Voices from far away seemed to be yelling, screaming, crying. She could feel the elements all around her, crying out, screaming. They were so afraid of something. It was as if the entire world was trying to run away from itself, ripping it apart in the process.

_'Shaman,' _she heard the voices call, _'we are afraid.' _

Ros'arin tried to reach out to them, wanting so much to heal them, calm the torment they were in. The cries grew louder and suddenly a violent light shot out, knocking her back.

The light filtered through her eyes as she slowly opened them. Her head was splitting, but the pain coursing through her just signified one important thing; She was still alive. As she came to, she noticed there was something on top of her, some sort of canvas. One of the sails must have ripped and fallen on top of her, concealing her from whoever had attacked the ship. She could hear voices, they were talking common tongue of the alliance. She shifted slowly and quietly, trying to peek from under the cloth. A small number of Alliance members were stationed around the ship, but her eyes immediately fell on Thrall, who stood in the center of the deck, being restrained by some sort of mage. In front of Thrall stood a human with a very smug look on his face. A few of the members of the Earthen Ring sat, unconscious or worse a few feet from Thrall. Aggra, who was being held down by a rather large Draenei, was shooting death glares at the human.

"We are not here to fight," Thrall said in a calm, diplomatic voice, "I am no longer Warcheif. We are on a diplomatic mission to find out why our world is crying out to us."

The human gave a snort. "What you are or are not doing is irrelevant. We are here for you, plain and simple. Our orders are to capture the target, and eliminate any witnesses," the human's glance left Thrall's eyes and back towards the captured group.

"No!" Thrall cried out and moved to attack the human inches from his face, but whatever the mage was doing was working, Thrall couldn't move. A rage grew inside Ros'arin. How dare the alliance do this, how dare they threaten peaceful citizens like this. Quickly, Ros'arin recited a quick prayer to the elements. It was not one she did often, and only used in emergencies, which this seemed to be. As she finished she felt a shift, her powers were no longer geared towards healing. Beside her lay an Alliance who had fallen during battle, he gripped two axes in his hands. Quietly she reached down and slid them into her own hands, it was now or never, she had to do something.

Ros'arin lept from the canvas, letting a battle cry leave her throat. Materializing into thin air, two ghostly wolves lept from Ros'arin, howling as they slammed into the mage, throwing him off guard and temporarily releasing Thrall. Ros'arin blindsided the human, knocking him off balance. Quickly, Thrall turned and subdued the guards around the left over members, shooting a bolt of lightning that struck all three guards at once. Those that could still move were up and fighting again, pushing the humans back. Ros'arin's wolves kept the mage busy while she tried to focus on the human, which would have been easier without her splitting headache. The human found his footing, drew a sword and advanced back on Ros'arin. He was quick, giving her no time to drop totems or cast spells. Finally she got the advantage and bashed him against the head with the side of her axe. The human stumbled back, clutching his head.

Suddenly, a cry from behind her caused the Troll to turn around. A night elf, one of the members of the Earthen Ring had just taken an arrow right in her stomach. Ros reached a hand up, instinctively to heal, but her heals were slow and ineffective. She cursed, hating the fact that she couldn't heal with her powers focused on fighting. Thrall turned to Ros'arin, his eyes growing wide.

"Ros'arin!" he cried reaching an arm out, "behind you!"

But before he could finish, Ros'arin felt the blade enter her back. She looked down slowly, staring at the metal protruding through her sternum. Her wolves gave a yelp and disappeared into the air. A sinister laugh was given behind her as she felt the sword being pulled back out. A hand pressed against her back as the sword exited her, pushing her sideways and over the edge of the ship. As she fell she heard Thrall cry out. She hit the water, slowly sinking beneath its surface. As the world began to disappear around her, she caught a glimpse of Thrall, subdued by the mage, being dragged onto the Alliance ship as the others fought back.


End file.
